Pulled Back In
by Uozumi
Summary: Five years after the final battle a phone call sends a domesticated Dean back into an occupation he thought he left. SPOILERS, no slash


**Fandom** _Supernatural_  
**Character(s)/Pairing(s)** Amelia, Ben, Claire, Dean, Jimmy, Lisa, Sam; Jimmy/Amelia, Lisa/Dean  
**Genre** Family/Fantasy/Future!Fic/Speculation/Supernatural  
**Rating** R  
**Word Count** 6,005  
**Disclaimer** Supernatural c. Kripke, WB, CW  
**Summary** Five years after the final battle a phone call sends a domesticated Dean back into an occupation he thought he left.  
**Warning(s)** spoilers for the whole series especially for the season five finale, language, blood, gore, minor character deaths  
**Notes** I started writing this when the rumor for season six that turned into "IDK my BFF Eric Kripke?" seemed legit. The idea of it and what all it could entail kind of attacked my brain and wouldn't let go until I wrote it. I meant to get this fic out sooner but then I got sick and then it took on a life of its own, so here it is. I hope you like it.

_**Pulled Back In**_

They were at the breakfast table when it happened. The ringtone was the same for any other number. The screen lit up and Dean fully expected it to be his boss telling him he changed Dean's hours again at the garage. He barely picked the phone up when he dropped it and it skittered down under the breakfast table. "Dammit."

Ben watched the phone. "Dude, chill." The fifteen-year-old nudged the phone back over to Dean with his foot. It was a Saturday and Lisa was already heading up a yoga class for expecting mothers at the YMCA in Fishers. Dean had about an hour until he had to leave for his shift at the garage and Ben had a list of chores on the refrigerator waiting to keep him out of trouble.

Dean gave Ben a look and picked the phone back up. It was still ringing. He mentally shook himself. It was just the phone, there was no voodoo curse looming over his head by answering. Dean inhaled deeply. "Hello?" He knew the hesitancy in his voice captured the attention of the teenager sitting across from him. They had many Saturday breakfasts just like this over the past five years and it was not the first breakfast to be interrupted by the cell phone, but normally those conversations had been short and to the point with no feet dragging.

"Uh…hello?" a familiar voice answered. There was some throat clearing and then another question, "Dean?"

"Cas?" It sounded like Castiel but it did not sound like Castiel. Dean leaned forward on the breakfast table.

"Uh…no," there was a sigh, "this is Jimmy Novak. I found your number in my cell phone…I just…" another deep breath, "I thought you could help."

Dean turned in his chair so his phone ear was facing away from Ben. "With what?" The hair on the back of Dean's neck pricked and if he had been Captain Kirk, his belly probably would have started aching by now. Dean could feel Ben watching him. For the first two years living in the Braeden house, Ben had done nothing but watch Dean partially out of admiration and partially to protect his mom. Now the kid's staring was rare, always reserved for off moments.

There was a long pause. "I…I'm not sure but something happened. You're the only person I could contact about it. The police are going to think I did this."

"Did what?" Dean stood up and walked across the room to the window that looked out onto the street. He could see a repair crew poking about the street light. It had been turning off regularly every night for at least a week now. Dean frowned at the strangled noise on the other end of the line. "Jimmy?"

"Amelia…Claire…" Jimmy's voice trailed and then returned, "they're…." He swallowed. "I came back this morning, barely got in the door – " There was a sudden burst of static and then the call cut off. Dean hit a few buttons on his phone to get back in touch with the number but it just kept going to messages. The number started out 937-238 like a number Dean used to keep for some chick from Dayton, Ohio. That was only about two and a half hours from Cicero. Not that Dean could be completely certain the call came from Dayton, but I was the best lead he had right now.

"What is it?" Ben had finished his breakfast and was just sitting at the table now. He tried not to over stare at Dean.

"This guy I know needs some help," Dean knew he was going to regret this, but not going was out of the question. It was easier to pretend things did not go bump in the night when they did not fall into his lap like this. "I'm going to go out to Dayton. I'll be back by supper." He was going to need things. He grabbed an unopened container of salt and placed it in a camping backpack. He still had most of his hunting equipment stashed up in the attic in the garage.

Ben followed. When Dean pulled the rickety attic steps down, Ben held them steady for Dean to climb up. "Can I come? I could practice my driving."

Dean left the question dangling as he opened a footlocker in the attic. Inside was all the weaponry he kept in the impala's trunk for years. Clouds of dust from the past five years released a cloud into the air. He sneezed a few times and then began shoving a little of this and that into his camping backpack. Once the pack was full, Dean shut the footlocker and was back down in the garage. "You can't come." Dean hurriedly guided the attic stairs back up into place.

"I drove it two months ago for the air show," Ben protested. He had attempted the highway and the impala remained in one piece.

"This isn't an air show," Dean countered. He put the bag in the impala's passenger seat and looked at Ben. "Besides, you've got that mowing thing."

"You have a job today too," Ben said. He eyed the impala and then looked back to Dean. They both knew today would be like any other Saturday. Dean would go into work only to find out he had Saturday off since the hours were screwed up and no one called him. It would mean first shift on Monday most likely. "You might need help." Ben tried another approach. He had a good idea of what all was in that camping bag. He had also heard Lisa and Dean talking sometimes when they thought he was asleep. He knew many things about Dean, but he dared not ask for details.

"Jimmy can help," Dean said and wrestled around with texting his boss. He was never going to get the hang of stupid text messaging but he did not have time for a runaround phone conversation either. Dean moved around to the driver's seat. "It's probably nothing," though Dean suspected it was more than something, "I'll be back for supper." He got in the impala and opened the garage door.

Ben sighed and waved to Dean before retreating back into the house once the garage door was closed again.

Dean made the two and a half hour drive to Dayton in less than two hours. It was a Sunday and it seemed the cops were preoccupied with other places than I-70. Dean pulled into a small diner he remembered from a few times he and Sam had been through Dayton and remained in the car. If Jimmy did not pick up this time, Dean knew not only did Pop's Diner probably have a phonebook he could use but it also had some of the best pie in all of Dayton. Yet, when he picked his phone up it did not register a signal. The screen began to fritz and flicker. "Fuck. Dammit, work." Dean moved the screen more towards the sun to see the fading digits when someone blocked the sunbeam. Looking up, Dean froze and watched the torso in his window stoop down to expose a familiar face.

"I thought it was you," Sam stated. He looked as he did at twenty-eight with the stupid StarGate hair and lack of age lines. His skin was paler but Sam still wore the same clothing he wore the last time Dean saw him five years ago.

Dean reached to his pocket and fumbled with the cap of his flask. Yet, the flask was empty. Dean frowned and tried to hunt down that unopened container of salt, but the container was not readily presenting itself.

"Dean, if I was going to eat your flesh, you wouldn't be hunting for the salt right now," Sam commented.

Dean's eyes had yet to leave Sam's form. "How…?" His voice trailed back off into nothing.

"It's a long story. The short version is I clawed my way out of Hell." Sam tilted his head, studying Dean, perhaps comparing and contrasting Dean at thirty-seven to Dean at thirty-two. "I'll explain later." He reached out and Dean avoided the hand heading for his shoulder. "Dean, if you want to help Jimmy, let me help you."

Dean eyed Sam or whatever it was that was using his brother's body. He could not smell sulfur, but Sam set the hairs on the back of his neck on end. "What are you?"

"Later." Sam got a hold of Dean's shoulder and within half an exhale, they were outside a three-story home on some numbered street in the middle of Dayton. Dean landed on the sidewalk hard when Sam let him go. Dean looked up at Sam but the creature taking his brother's form was gone.

Dean got off the sidewalk and headed up to the house. The screen door was closed but the front door was opened and the smell of blood and greeted Dean when he put his foot on the first step leading up to the breakfast porch. Dean glanced around and found his backpack sitting next to his feet. Shouldering the backpack, Dean knocked on the frame of the screen door. "Jimmy? Jimmy Novak?" He glanced over his shoulder but no one else seemed to be outside despite it was a sunny Saturday late morning.

Jimmy appeared at the door disheveled and groggy. His t-shirt and jeans were soaked with blood. He fumbled with the lock on the screen door and then let Dean into the house. "Sorry…you were the only person I could call."

Dean entered and looked around. There was smeared blood on the living room carpet but it looked like transfer from Jimmy's clothes than a starting point. His eyes drifted back to Jimmy. Dean's hair was not standing on hand but there was a faint smell to the entire house more like burnt sage than sulfur. "Sage…?"

"Amelia burns – burnt it," Jimmy shifted his weight and ran his hands through is hair, "she said it was comforting."

"It's supposed to ward off evil," Dean stated. He peered around what he could see from the foyer. There was a staircase immediately to their left and the living room to their right. From where Dean stood, he could see part of the dining room that connected to the living room. He could not see into the kitchen, but the doorway to the kitchen was directly across from where Jimmy stood.

Jimmy paled and then took a deep breath. The stench of blood was thick and choking. He looked at Dean as though now that Dean was here, Jimmy did not know exactly what he was expecting Dean to do. "They…I…this way." He motioned for Dean to follow and headed for the kitchen.

Everything at first was red. The ceiling, floor, walls, cabinets, table, chairs soon came into focus and other colors immerged in the mass of sticky red flung about the room. Dean heard snapping under his boot and instantly stepped back away from the hand he stepped on. There was no body attached. Entrails were spread out in the center of the tiled floor in an incoherent pattern. Amelia's head sat on the kitchen table with her tongue missing. Dean did not see the rest of her body.

Jimmy turned away from the sight. He opened his mouth and then closed it.

Dean looked around the room. The scent of sage competed with the blood. He stepped towards the entrails and knelt down, finding parts of them charred and cut. He tried to breathe through his mouth as he looked up at the ceiling, finding the heart and pancreas stuck to the ceiling, blood swishing between the organs in bizarre patterns. "Shit." He had seen this with animals before. He did not know exactly what the symbols meant, but he had an idea of what they were dealing with now. Dean stood up and started walking towards Jimmy at a quick pace. "Where's your daughter?" They had to leave.

"She's upstairs," Jimmy replied quietly. His hand reached out and grabbed Dean by the bicep when Dean reached him. His fingers tightened around the muscle. He licked his lips and then added, "She's the same." Blue eyes flickered to meet green hazel eyes before looking away.

They were running out of time. There were no clues if the creature that had attacked Jimmy's wife and daughter would return to finish off the patriarch or not. Dean could not remember what he expected the job to be when he received the phone call hours ago, but right now, the job felt larger and more complicated than he must have anticipated.

"The thing that did this isn't going to come back," Sam intoned from the entrance to the Novak home. Jimmy eyed him warily but did not protest.

Dean's eyes shifted from Jimmy to Sam and he watched Sam a moment before shifting his body to block Jimmy from his brother or whatever looked like his brother. "So you know what it is?"

"Not exactly," Sam stated. He stopped a companionable distance from the older men. "But I have an idea." His eyes shifted from Jimmy to Dean. "I think you know what it is too, Dean."

Jimmy's attention focused onto Dean instantly. His fingers dug into the fabric of Dean's overshirt enough Dean could almost feel Jimmy's nails and then Jimmy let him go as though he just realized he still had a grip on Dean. He cleared his throat. "So how will burning the bodies help catch the bastard?" He swallowed and stood a little straighter.

"It won't," Dean answered, "but salting and burning the corpses will keep them where they belong." He opened his bag and pulled the container of salt out and set it on the top of a post that grounded the banister.

Jimmy reached out, took the container of salt, and held it carefully when his hands threatened to drop its weight. He straightened his posture and squared his shoulders but the tremble all over his body was still evident. "I should do this – I have to do this." His eyes flickered up to meet Sam's gaze and then Dean's gaze. He headed upstairs with the salt container. Dean watched Jimmy go and when he turned to ask Sam what the hell was really going on, he found Sam had vanished.

Jimmy took care of salting the bodies while Dean rounded up a gas can from the shed. The can did not have much left in it, but it would have to do. The pair met in the kitchen. Jimmy stared at the gas can a long time and tossed the empty salt container aside. "Split it between the bodies," Dean instructed, though he thought Jimmy probably could figure it out. He was going to look for something flammable in the downstairs bathroom under the stairwell when his cell phone rang. Dean motioned Jimmy to go upstairs while Dean started raiding the cabinets for lighter fluid as he answered the call.

"Dean?" the voice was hesitant but not too quiet.

"Hey, Ben, I can't really talk right now." Dean had only answered the phone since the number was the landline and it could have been Lisa. He examined a chemical cleaner, decided it was not flammable enough yet, and then continued looking for something adequately flammable.

"I don't need to talk," Ben murmured and he lowered his voice, "I need you to tell me what to do."

Dean fumbled with the Comet container in his free hand. He set it heavily on the counter and reached into the cabinet again. "With what?"

"There's this…woman," Ben paused, "she's been staking out the house since I got back from mowing, and then…Mom…in…know…here." Static interference began to build up, obscuring Ben's voice.

Dean set the nail polish remover on the counter and barked into the phone, "Ben! Ben! What happened?" He paused and tried to listen but after a moment, his phone became nothing but static. Dean looked around, but Jimmy was in the doorway to the bathroom instead of Sam, and he showed no signs of being possessed by Castiel.

"I think I used too much gas upstairs." Jimmy commented quietly. He shifted his weight while Dean sized him up. "What?"

"Nothing," Dean hung the phone up. "Let's hurry the hell up and leave."

Jimmy reached out and touched Dean's shoulder, squeezing it platonically before taking the nail polish remover from him. "I'll try to be fast." Then he turned towards his left and entered the kitchen out of Dean's view.

Dean tried not to think what his face looked like that brought on that shoulder squeeze. Looking at his phone, Dean dialed Ben back, but the landline, Ben's cell phone, and Lisa's phone were all dead. After another try, Dean's phone was flickering between colors on the screen and all the words were illegible. "Dammit, Sam, wherever you are, go away." Dean jammed his phone back into his pocket and stepped out of the bathroom to see how Jimmy was doing. He almost considered leaving Jimmy here, but Dean was not completely certain he was right about what had attacked Jimmy's family. He had only encountered this type of witch once before, not to mention Jimmy and Claire were capable of becoming Castiel's vessel. Amelia could have been collateral.

Jimmy was standing before Amelia's head still sitting on the table. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead and ran his fingers through her matted, blood-soaked hair, letting his fingers linger a moment. Taking a deep breath, Jimmy poured the last of the nail polish remover over Amelia's head. He then retreated to the opening of the kitchen and looked at Dean. "Ready?"

"Yeah." Dean was moving his weight between his feet. He needed to get on the road.

Jimmy checked his hands and then struck a match, tossing it into a puddle of gas he had placed strategically on the floor. Once the flames began to spread, both men turned and left the residence. "Dean," Jimmy got into a sedan parked in the driveway. Once Dean was in the passenger seat, Jimmy took off down the street at the speed limit. Dean looked over his shoulder at the house slowly going up in flame. Once they were out of the neighborhood and on state road 35, Jimmy sped.

"Where's your car?" Jimmy's knuckles were white on the steering wheel.

"Uh…Pop's Diner, off I-70," Dean answered.

"Okay." Jimmy kept his eyes forward. "We'll switch to that car." His eyes kept flickering to his rearview mirror but he resisted turning to look over his shoulder. After a beat, Jimmy amended, "If you want. This isn't a hostage situation."

"Good to know," Dean quipped and fished his phone back out as Jimmy tried to get them down I-75 as fast as they could go while remaining inconspicuous. They watched a fire truck shoot down the south bound lane and Jimmy sped up slightly. Dean started trying numbers into his phone finding the screen back to normal. No matter whose cell phone he tried or the landline, he could not get in touch with Lisa or Ben. Dean shouldered his bag once they hit the diner's parking lot and tossed it in the back of the impala. "Get in if you're coming." Dean was reluctant to split from Jimmy until he understood what was occurring back in Cicero and what attacked Amelia and Claire in Dayton, however, he would not force Jimmy to do anything currently.

Jimmy hurriedly got into the passenger seat without question and the pair was off back down I-70 as fast as Dean could urge the impala. It had been five years since he tested the will of cops and their radar guns, but his gut had yet to stop feeling tight since Ben's call cut off. When they crossed the state line, Sam appeared in the back seat.

"I don't have time for this," Dean half growled. Even at the speed he was pushing, the impala felt too slow, and now that Sam was here, no one could call him.

"You like it when I appear," Sam observed. "Even if it causes you stress." He watched Dean's reaction through the rearview mirror.

Dean's jaw tightened but he did not slow the impala. "What are you doing here?" Dean swallowed down his suspicions. Ben had claimed there was a woman involved back in Cicero and Dean would be lying if he did not admit that news assuaged the growing suspicion that Sam was involved in the death of Jimmy's family.

"You might need my help," Sam replied without removing his eyes from Dean's face in the rearview mirror.

Dean pushed the gas harder. He still had not tested Sam for demonic anything yet. He wanted to believe that Sam was not possessed, yet to crawl out of Hell without bringing something along just seemed impossible to Dean. Yet, he never had a chance to crawl out when he was down there. Dean shuddered involuntarily.

"I'm not Lucifer or a demon," Sam stated after a while.

Dean's eyes flickered to Sam's gaze in the rearview mirror. "Demons lie."

"Why would I lie to you, Dean?" Sam shifted in the seat, trying to find a good place to put his long legs.

"It wouldn't be the first time," Dean muttered. He glanced at Jimmy but the older male was staring blankly out the window at the landscape passing by. "And, last I checked, humans don't bwink in and out all over the place."

Sam considered this. "I didn't say I was human either."

Dean's hand twitched but his bag was in the back with Sam. He had to think of something. Admittedly, Sam was not acting as he did when Lucifer was wearing him, but Sam definitely seemed to be displaying some angelic traits. The darkness of the backseat obscured any shadow that would divulge any hint of wings. "So," Dean ventured after a while, "you think we're dealing with one of those witches." If Sam was sticking around, maybe he could get information out of him. He made a hard left with his steering wheel and careened around the car in front of them along the shoulder when it abruptly slowed so the driver could take a cell phone call.

Once the danger passed, Sam answered, "What you think it is, Dean, you're right." Sam did not elaborate further. His eyes glanced over at the car when they passed it. The driver gave them a dirty look, her orange cell phone stuck to her ear. "You knew it since before Jimmy called you."

Dean managed to stop himself from breaking so he could turn around in his seat and glare at Sam properly. "I did not – "

"You did," Sam interrupted. "Maybe not the specifics, but you've known something was going to happen for the past four months."

Dean's eye narrowed. He set his teeth and glanced back at Sam briefly before returning his attention to the traffic ahead. "Whatever." He flexed his hands on the steering wheel.

Dean turned onto State Road 38. He had not needed to stop for gas yet and with Sam in the car; the needle hovered between half a tank and full. Clouds began to change from puffy white popcorn looking anvils into gray wisps that threatened to rotate. Dean did not need a temperature gauge in his car to know the temperature was going to start dropping soon. He had seen this weather pattern before, usually innocuous except when it bore no rain. It had been poking at him since he discovered the entrails on the kitchen floor. He had seen this once before when he was very young when Sam was barely out of diapers and John had yet to enroll Dean in school even though he was old enough to go.

Jimmy sneezed. He offered a weak "'Scuse me" before returning to staring out the window without really looking.

"Did your wife hunt?" Dean asked. His gaze shifted to Jimmy briefly.

Jimmy blinked and then turned his head to Dean. "What?"

"Did your wife hunt things? Put salt rings along windows, place weird symbols along entryways?" Dean had not really been looking for signs of warding off demons and other supernatural specters. Salt lines, burnt sage, and demon wards would not have stopped the creature he thought it might be.

Jimmy rubbed his face and thought his answer over. "Amelia just burnt sage, but Claire had bugs in her room a lot from putting salt on the windowsills." He studied Dean and frowned. "Do you know what happened?"

Dean adjusted his hands on the steering wheel, but did not ease on the gas. "Maybe." His lips curled slightly at the deduction. Dean could not deny now that he knew what the woman Ben said he saw before the phone went to static was. Part of him wanted to pull over and have Sam make them appear at the house, however, he still was not sure Sam was Sam enough to trust him to deposit them outside the house in Cicero instead of half way across the country or the world. He felt Sam's eyes on his neck but Dean did not look back at the backseat. He did not want Sam to act at random, especially going about twenty to thirty miles over the speed limit.

"I wouldn't transport you from a moving car," Sam stated. "At least pull over if you want me to take you anywhere."

"Stop reading my mind, Sam." Dean pushed the radio and turned it, finding all the channels to be static. He pushed the radio off.

Once Dean hit State Road 19, he slowed enough not to cause a stir in town. They arrived in Cicero minutes later and soon were pulling up outside of the house Dean shared with Lisa and Ben. A muffled shout from inside the house greeted them barely moments after Dean shut the impala's engine off.

"Lisa!" Dean was already up to the door and into the house before Jimmy had gotten out of the impala. Jimmy looked around and found that Sam had disappeared. Still covered in blood, Jimmy hurried to the house, hoping no neighbors saw him.

Dean reached into his bag and pulled out a wooden stake as he ran. Of course, vampires were impervious to wooden stakes, but there was a creature from that same region of the world that was not. He had no hammer, but he would not need something beyond his own strength and adrenaline to stab the creature. Dean crashed through the living room and then skittered to a halt. Everything was quiet. Lying behind a chair was Ben, blood oozing from his mouth, nose, eyes, and ears. Five fingerprints were burnt onto the flesh of the teenager's face. Dean knelt beside the body and reached out, pressing his fingers to the boy's cold neck. "Ben…." Ben did not stir and Dean reached out, pressing his fingers to Ben's wrist, but again there was no pulse. The sound of a tray smacking something broke Dean of his reverie and he got to his feet. "Lisa?"

"Dean?" was the rushed response from the kitchen. Again, a tray hit something before it clattered and slid across the floor. The sound of a body hitting the floor hard soon followed. Dean charged into the kitchen in time to watch a gnarled old woman hovering in mid-air with her body clothed in rags send Lisa to the kitchen floor with great force. The old woman went for Lisa's neck with her long curved fingernails within half a breath and dug them into Lisa's throat, squeezing, but not going deep enough to draw blood down Lisa's neck.

Dean wielded his stake and drove it right into the hump on the back of the creature, driving the stake deep before twisting it. The old woman let out a pained screech and then flickered before extinguishing into thing black smoke wisps that settled out into a floral pattern before dissipating in the breeze from the open kitchen window. Dean grabbed one of the towels that fell to the floor in what looked like a long struggle that occurred in the kitchen and pressed it firmly to Lisa's neck. "Dammit, Lisa, I…"

Lisa reached up and ran her fingers weakly through Dean's hand, coughing up blood that bubbled up and out of her throat and down her chin. Her lips moved but the only noise she could make was a choked gurgling noise. He fumbled with his phone to call 911, but it was dead. He heard footsteps in the entryway to the kitchen but did not look up.

"Call 911. Dammit, Jimmy…fuck…" Dean watched more blood ooze from Lisa's lips. He kept his eyes on her face. "Stay with me." The kitchen towel was soaked with blood and Lisa's eyes were fluttering as though they were quite heavy. Her hand fell from Dean's shoulder to lie limp over the outward curve of her abdomen. Jimmy had left the room to make the 911 call. Dean could hear Jimmy's end of the conversation but he could not process the words.

The past sixteen years flashed through his mind. The hookup, coming around before Hell, and those brief visits before the Apocalypse came to its conclusion were just brief glimpses in his memory before it brought up the past five years. It had been hard; it had been a struggle and how the hell Lisa put up with the hardest parts Dean did not fully understand, but those claws, once they entered Lisa's flesh, everything was over.

Jimmy gave a wide berth to Ben's dead body as he dialed 911 on his cell phone. He waited, but there was no dial tone, only static.

"She's not going to live," a voice said quietly. "Those claws are poisoned." Sam stood in the far corner near the door.

Jimmy looked to Sam and frowned. Sam shook his head and continued, "That creature was a femeie ucigaş, a witch that preys on female hunters. If her skin touches a child of a female hunter under the age of sixteen, the child will die instantly. The claws on her right hand are poisoned, so if you're stabbed no matter whom you are, it's the end." He put his hands in his pockets. "Let's give Dean a moment."

Jimmy glanced over his shoulder and back towards the entryway to the kitchen. Dean and Lisa were obscured by the angle. "Then this…" Jimmy tried to pronounce the Romanian, "femeie ucigaş was what attacked Amelia and Claire."

"Yes," Sam answered. He continued to study Jimmy. "The femeie ucigaş were created in the middle ages when a spike in supernatural activity in Romania caused a drastic spike in women leaving the home to hunt creatures. Everyone thinks they're legend, but we encountered one at a roadhouse once when Dean and I were very little. Dad stopped it, but you know where there's one thing, there's always another."

Jimmy turned his head back to Sam and shifted his weight. "So when I called Dean, I gave this thing a new target?" His nose wrinkled slightly. "You appeared because of that, didn't you?" Sam had said something about mistakes before he put two fingers to Jimmy's head and knocked him out cold in the living room.

Sam nodded. "I thought I could stop her from sensing Lisa's past, but no one knows how exactly a femeie ucigaş finds her victims."

Jimmy looked at his phone and then set his jaw. He shoved his phone back into his pocket and entered the kitchen. From the entryway, he observed Dean kneeling over Lisa, arms wrapped around her tight with his head bowed. Dean did not make a noise nor did he move. Jimmy did not have a memory of this woman from his days observing the world as Castiel's vessel, yet he did not need such a memory to observe the swollen womb that was just starting to really show and the way Dean's fingers curled into her clothing to know who she was. Three steps found him standing over Dean. His mouth was dry, but Jimmy knew he had to speak.

"Don't say it," Dean spoke first. He let Lisa go and laid her carefully back on the floor, closing he eyes. Dean rose to his feet and took a deep breath, looking at Jimmy. "Whatever it is you're going to say, it's bullshit."

"It's not bullshit." Jimmy's eyes followed Dean as the younger man began hunting through the mess in the kitchen.

"Yeah it is. It's either some sympathy crap or some sort of guilt something." Dean pulled a container of salt down and checked its level. "Don't take the blame," he grabbed the saltshakers in the cabinet and poured the contents back into the salt container. "It's the fucking witch's fault." Dean moved past Jimmy towards the living room. He looked at Sam who still stood on the steps. Kneeling down he placed his arms under Ben's arms, dragging his body towards the back of the house. Ben was a few inches shorter than Dean was with a slightly muscular build spotted with a little pudge brought on by puberty. When Dean reappeared in Jimmy's line of view, Jimmy picked up Ben's legs, supporting some of the teenager's weight. Dean glanced at him but did not rebuff the assistance. There was a new privacy fence up in the back that looked about a year old and obscured their activities from nosy neighbors. Dean looked around and listened. There were no sirens, no out of place noises or sensations. "There's a gas can in the garage."

When Jimmy left to retrieve the gas can, Dean returned to the kitchen and picked Lisa up. He pulled her close and opened his mouth before closing it and looking at the entryway. Sam stared back at him, that creeper stare he used on their mother when they time traveled to 1977 so long ago. Dean held Sam's gaze, shifted Lisa in his arms, and then headed out to the backyard. He laid her carefully next to Ben. Dean's fingers twitched and his legs remained where they were. He needed salt. He needed to get the matches too, but all he managed was a slight movement of his knees. His eyes traveled over the paling faces lying on the patio. A hand fell onto his shoulder before departing briefly. Dean looked up and over at Sam who had both the salt and the matches.

"I didn't think this would happen, Dean." Sam shifted his weight. "I thought this was the right thing."

"It was what you wanted," Dean responded. Yet, he had not been in the position to want anything he could actually have after Sam disappeared into that sinkhole and everyone left. It had been that life Dean had been entertaining off and on, the life. The type of wish that made him divulge the family secret to Cassie when he was young and influenced his captivity by the jinni. Dean took the salt from Sam and began to shake it out over the bodies, covering both as evenly as possible. "I knew it'd end this way." He gritted his teeth briefly and he tossed the used salt container to the ground.

Jimmy retuned with the gas can. He handed it to Dean and stepped away. Once the gas was spread out over the bodies, Dean lit them. The fire spread rapidly, encouraged by the breeze. When both bodies were completely covered in flame, Dean turned away and began to walk back to the impala. He did not extend any invitations to follow, but he felt Sam fall into step. If Jimmy remained or left through the back gate, Dean did not bother to look.

**The End**


End file.
